


Winter Wonderland

by shadowsamurai



Category: Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV)
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Songfic, light slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-20
Updated: 2012-06-20
Packaged: 2017-11-08 04:28:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/439149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsamurai/pseuds/shadowsamurai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holmes may complain that Watson is a romantic, but that does not mean he disagrees with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Wonderland

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I'm just borrowing things for a while and I promise I'll put everything back exactly how I found it when I've finished. Well, almost exactly how I found it. ;)

SH-JW-SH-JW-SH-JW

*Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?  
In the lane, snow is glistening,  
A beautiful sight, we're happy tonight,  
Walking in a winter wonderland*

It was a well known fact to many people that I was a confirmed romantic and I made no attempts to hide it. It was a constant source of amusement to my good friend, Sherlock Holmes, who viewed romanticism in the same way he viewed most emotions and other such notions; with a heavy amount of disdain, finding them pointless and, more often than not, that they simply got in the way of more important things, like logic and deduction. I gave up a long time ago trying to persuade him differently, right after our first case, if I recall rightly.

But one winter's eve, my softer side came into discussion once again, as Holmes and I were sat comfortably in front of our fire, the windows frosted with ice, the streets outside coated in thick, white snow.

"I always find it rather sad that one doesn't have someone to share these evenings with," I remarked randomly as I stared into the flames.

As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted speaking them, and began to wonder what on earth made me do so. I blamed the brandy I had been sipping quite regularly since dinner, though I knew Holmes would not accept such a poor excuse from me in an attempt to make him desist from a course he hadn't even started on. Unfortunately, I knew my good friend far too well and knew it was only a matter of seconds, moments if I was lucky, before he latched onto my comment like a bulldog, shaking it until I gave in and recanted my words.

"A curious choice of words, Watson," Holmes said, and there was definitely a trace of amusement in his voice. "What do you suppose I am, then? A mannequin?"

I found his response was not the one I was expecting or even prepared for, and for a while I simply stared at him. "Don't be daft, old man. You know what I meant."

"Indeed I did, Watson," Holmes said quietly, his lips pursing thoughtfully around his pipe. "Indeed I did."

Recognising the signs of dark depression claiming my friend, I leant forward in my chair. "It was just a comment, Holmes. Think nothing of it."

"But I do, Watson. I am a thinker, that is my purpose in life. And sometimes I do wonder why you are still here when you could indeed be sharing evenings like this one with some more...delightful company."

"And do you not also think that it is my choice to stay here with you?" I replied with a smile.

It was not the first time we had engaged in this topic of conversation, and it would not be the last either. Occasionally, Holmes would indulge in his own softer side and worry that I was throwing away many opportunities for a life of my own, a family and children, by staying with him. And each time my answer was the same: I stayed because I wanted to. Nothing more, nothing less. I felt no sense of obligation to remain where I was, even though Holmes would remind me that my help with his cases was invaluable. No, I stayed because of the man sat in the chair opposite me.

Holmes smiled slightly, his lips twitching. "Yes, Watson, that is always your answer. But I do wonder if sometimes it will change."

I frowned. "Would you want it to?"  
Silence descended on the room and I had lived with Holmes long enough to recognise the signs; I would not get an answer. He would instead change the subject and that would be the end of it. It was odd, though, that he was expecting my answer to change...or was he hoping? Did he actually not want me to stay? Suddenly I began to feel uncertain about what was happening and Holmes, being able to read my facial expressions better than the printed word, smiled again.

"How about a stroll, Watson?"

I realised I was staring again but couldn't stop myself. "A stroll, Holmes?" I repeated incredulously.

"Why not?"

"It's late and it's freezing outside. How many more reasons do you want?"

"Is that a no?" he asked, a mischievous tone in his voice.

"Of course it's a no, old man!" I replied, shaking my head.

Holmes actually managed to look disappointed, his mask falling away suddenly, briefly, before it was replaced with understanding. "Ah, forgive me, Watson. For a moment I forgot about your injuries. Surely a walk in this weather would be your undoing with that leg. What about a little music instead?"

But I had seen true disappointment flash across his handsome features and knew he had asked for a reason, not for some obscure whim, although even if that had been the case, I would still have agreed. Holmes was, after all, my friend.

"That is usually my reason for declining," I said, "But after a day of sitting down doing very little, I wouldn't mind stretching the old legs for a while. A short stroll would be pleasant, providing Mrs Hudson is prepared for us on our return."

Holmes grinned then, pleased with my answer. "I shall tell her immediately about our decision to depart the premises for a short while," he replied, going quickly out of the room, his movements as graceful and lithe as a dancer.

Shaking my head, I smiled as well, and wondered how I managed to get myself talked into such things as I went upstairs to wrap up warmly. I knew the answer, of course; I was talked into such things because I wanted to be. Because I wanted Holmes to be happy. It was such a rare occurrence to see him smile so genuinely, and so anything I could do to help facilitate that reaction I would do so gladly. Even if it did mean half freezing to death by going outside.

I met Holmes downstairs in the hallway, Mrs Hudson glaring disapprovingly at us from the kitchen doorway. "Such behaviour from Mr Holmes, I expect," she said to me. "But you, Doctor. I thought you would have had more sense."

I simply smiled at her. "It's only a short stroll, Mrs Hudson. I'm not an invalid, you know."

"Hmm. You will be when you get back," she replied. "I'll keep your fire going and have something warming ready for your return."

"Thank you, dear lady. Now, Watson, let us be off!" Holmes remarked gaily.

The cold was not as bitter as I feared it would be, and there was a somewhat magical quality about Baker Street that evening. The snow was crisp underfoot and very few tracks had been made in the pristine whiteness, everyone having the sense to stay inside. But I must admit, I did enjoy the stroll, London far quieter than at any other time in my memory. Holmes exuded an odd sense of calm and, I would have said, contentment as we walked in silence. Occasionally he would turn a fraction in my direction, but would never actually speak. I began to wonder why he had suggested leaving the comfort of our rooms, but knew better than to press him for any answers.

But before long, my curiosity got the better of me. "So, Holmes, what is behind this walk?" I asked quietly. "And please do not insult my intelligence by saying there was no reason."

"I would never insult you on purpose, my dear Watson," Holmes replied quietly. "I would rather cut my own arm off. And you are correct, there is a reason, but voicing such a thing is far more difficult that I imagined it would be."

I stopped, quite unnerved by the conversation. "I say, Holmes, is anything wrong? Are you in some kind of trouble?"

He actually had the audacity to chuckle quite good-humouredly. "The worst kind of trouble, I would say." He continued walking and so I had no choice but to follow him. "You said it was sad that one didn't have a companion to share these evenings with. I assume you were referring to the female of the species, and the fact that these quiet, snowy nights create an almost magical atmosphere."

I was quiet for a while as I replayed my friend's words back in my head, checking for any signs of malice or sarcasm, but I could find none and that made the whole incident all the stranger. "I meant it was sad for anyone who was alone, Holmes, be they a man or a woman. You are correct, though, I do think evenings like this are magical, a winter wonderland, if you will. And to me, they are meant to be shared, preferable with someone special." I was treading into dangerous territory with my words, the conversation steering perilously close to a subject I really did not want to discuss, for many reasons. Knowing if I left it there, Holmes would latch onto my words instantly, I sought for something else to say. "I realise the idea seems ridiculous to you..."

"Just because I do not partake in the sharing of feelings, or the displaying of them very often, does not mean I do not understand the reasoning behind what you are saying," Holmes replied softly. "In fact, I would say that I agree with you."

I stopped again and turned to face him, trying to understand just what he was saying to me between the lines, if it was indeed anything at all. Unfortunately – or perhaps fortunately, depending on one's outlook – Holmes turned at the same time, and because of our height differences, his lips connected with my forehead. I stopped myself from thinking it was done on purpose; such a thing was just not possible, for I had convinced myself it was only I who had those sorts of feelings for my good friend. It was, after all, the real reason I stayed. I was attracted to the fairer sex, of course, but my time in the army had taught me that there were far more choices available when it came to love and bodily pleasures than general society was led to believe. And so, Holmes' lips connecting with my skin - and knocking my hat off in the process, but that was completely incidental – invoked a great many reactions within me, all of which I took great pains to hide. I was ready to shrug the incident off as simply an accident or just one of Holmes' eccentric quirks, of which he had many, but when I forced myself to look into his eyes, I realised that he had indeed made such a gesture on purpose. In fact, if I was reading his expression correctly, he was making me an offer, one I very much wanted to accept, but in a more private setting.

"I think," I said very carefully, "That I would like to go home now."

Holmes' expression flickered, uncertainty colouring his pale eyes. "You are cold." It was part statement, part question.

"A little," I admitted. "But if I'm correct, you just asked me a question which requires an answer, and this is not the place for giving the answer I would like to give."

"If that is the case..." Holmes trailed off and bent to retrieve my hat. "...We should hasten with all speed back to our lodgings."

I smiled at him, resisting the urge to just kiss him senseless then and there. "I would say that I would race you, old man, but I don't think I could stand you being smug all night because you are sure to win."

"I could carry you," he suggested, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

"A tempting suggestion, Holmes, but I think I can walk. Although," I added as we headed back to Baker Street, "I think you should stay close by in case I need to lean on you."

"Any time, any where, my dear Doctor," Holmes told me.

As we walked, I noticed that the snow seemed a little whiter, the night a little fresher. Everything smelt and looked differently than it had on our outward journey, and the magic I had spoken of earlier hung heavily in the air. Eyes downcast, I noticed that the only prints in the snow were ours, mine and Holmes', and that even before, there was very little distance between us. Now there was even less and I hoped it would remain that way for the rest of our lives. Glancing sideways, I saw Holmes was walking similarly, his eyes fixed on the snow crunching beneath our feet and a small smile playing on his lips, and I knew he was thinking the same thing I was.

*Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?  
In the lane, snow is glistening,  
A beautiful sight, we're happy tonight,  
Walking in a winter wonderland*

FIN


End file.
